The Wall
by FalsehoodFabrications
Summary: For Kurt, the wall at the bottom of his garden is the only thing that can offer him solace. That is until he is assigned a new lab parter; Blaine Anderson.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey :) This is a new account for me so thought I'd get started with this idea. It came from 'The Secret Life of Bees', which if you're familiar with, I'm sure you'll make links in the future. Hope you enjoy it and reviews are greatly appreciated. **

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"Just tell me what happened in the dream, sweetie," my mother whispered soothingly into my hair whilst patting my back. We lay huddled together on my small single bed, cocooned in batman blankets as was the case following most of my nightmares. I'd startled awake about half an hour ago and instantly called for her. I'm a nine year old boy that still needs his Mum to get past bad dreams, so what?

"They were just coming through the garden…it was like that invasion movie I watched with Dad," I'm shaking and although my mind can differentiate dreams from reality, what takes place in my subconscious stays implanted in my mind beyond the point of waking up.

I always found it strange that after a really good dream, I'd forget certain parts or situations. Yet after every nightmare the events remained imprinted in my brain. These nightmares however were of the recurring kind. It's the same every time.

Our house is in the countryside – apparently my dad never enjoyed the hustle bustle of the city and my mum followed him out of love. Unfortunately for me, the garden we have has no definite ending, just a few precariously placed boulders and then a stretch of woodland. It's that stretch of undergrowth that really gets my mind going.

Ever since I was a child I can remember staring into the trees and my imagination would get the best of me. Be it the scary man we'd see in the grocery store to the goblins in my story books, each had their own respective place in the woods beyond my garden. I knew that they weren't there, I told myself so every night before going to sleep. That however, did not stop them from paying me a visit in my dreams; dreams that would quickly become nightmares.

"I know they're not real, Mum. It's just…" I trail of, frustrated that my mind continued to let me down like this.

"Kurt, I'm going to tell you something your grandfather told me when I was your age. You see, I had nightmares to-"

"You had nightmares as well?" I gasped, I don't know why this shocked me but for a child, your parents are superheroes and any sign of weakness just seems absurd. My revelation however, didn't bode well with Mum causing me to bow my head at her reprimanding eyes.

"I'm sorry for interrupting, "I whisper before chancing a glance at her face, "but did you really have nightmares?" She smiles at me and nods and I don't know why but with that small snippet of information I feel a little better. If Mum can get past them then so can I.

"My nightmares were similar to yours. Creatures of different varieties would just pop up in my dreams. Frightened me to death they did," she says dramatically, "if it weren't for Grandpa and what he told me, I'd never have dealt with them. My, I'd go as far to say you'd probably have to come cuddle me for I'd still be having those nightmares."

I lose myself in the picture she paints before suddenly realising there's probably more to the story, "what did Grandpa tell you?"

"He said, Lizzie," she puts on a deep voice just like Grandpa and I cover my mouth trying to keep the laughter in, "when I was your age, your grandmother would tell me something-"

"Wait, isn't that basically what you just said to me?" I interject confused. Mum opens her mouth a little and then closes it before chuckling.

"I'm telling the truth! Your Grandpa did say that. However, much like yourself, I noticed the similarity in what my grandfather and yours had said."

I pause, trying to understand what my Mum is saying, "that's pretty confusing."

"It is, isn't it, Kurt? But perhaps you can find a link in tonight and all those years ago when I had nightmares."

Always a fan of riddles and puzzles, I think over the conversation again. Suddenly it hits me and I smile widely at my mother.

"We've all had nightmares?" Mum smiles and nods before rising from the bed to tuck me in.

"Yes, sweetie. Everyone has nightmares. You, me, everyone on the planet."

"Dad doesn't have nightmares," I state proudly to which mum says; "oh I'm sure he did at one point."

"Kurt, what I'm trying to say is that we all have nightmares. They're the little problems we have to deal with sometimes at night. But remember this, just like your Grandpa, I got past my nightmares. And soon you will to, you just need to realise that what's in your head will remain there until you have the courage to face these demons head on. That's a pretty tall order though, huh?"

I nod slowly, not wanting in the slightest to face any demon head on, imaginary or not. Mum pauses for a moment, picking one of my bears from the floor to hand to me, "how about we build a wall?"

"A wall?"

"Yes, a wall. It's the woods that scare you and why shouldn't they? They're open to the garden and quite frankly, I like the idea of a wall down there. Maybe it'll ward of any animals from my vegetable patches," Mum muses, suddenly excited about this idea.

"But wouldn't we need to go near the woods to do that," I ask, suddenly not all that keen on the idea at all.

"Why yes, yes we will. And in doing so, we'll overcome that fear of yours."

I puff my chest out slightly; proud that Mum believes I'm strong enough to do this. She smiles at me and kisses my forehead, "I love you, sweetie."

"I love you more," I chatter back, already beginning to fall asleep.

"Impossible."

_One year later_

"Whoa, easy there, Kurt. Where's the fire?" Dad plants one of his hands of my head and in the strangest way, rotates my body. I stop suddenly and roll my eyes, hitching my hand onto my hip; mum would be proud that I've close to perfected her 'don't be silly' look.

"Daaaad, you know today mum and I are putting the last stone onto the wall. She got someone to carve our names into it! Isn't that exciting?" I'm close to bouncing of the walls. It's been one whole year since Mum suggested project wall and today we'll finally be finishing it.

At the beginning the nightmares still plagued my dreams but as the months went on they became less frequent and now I'm proud to say I don't have them at all. The woods are still a little scary but mum helped me replace the old memories of a dark, mysterious forest with our new and much happier memories.

_Mum went to lift a big rock and I gasped in mock fury, "my lady! Please let me." _

_She giggled at me and motioned with her arm for me to take the rock instead. I lifted the beast – which was a lot heavier than it looked – and hobbled over to our uncompleted wall and then, rather unceremoniously dropped the rock onto the pile. _

"_Why, whatever would I do without my strong Prince?" I agreed with her wholeheartedly and continued to boast my strength before my eye caught movement coming from the woods. _

_I froze at the possibility of what it could be and was close to running into the house in search of Dad until I hear a familiar melody. _

_Arising from my stupor, I watched as mum made a line between the garden and the woods that would guide us where to put the rocks. She continued to sing and it wasn't long before I was joining in. _

_I had forgotten all about the movement in the woods. _

Ever since that day, Mum would make time to sing with me and would teach me more about music. It wasn't long before project wall was only one of our projects. At first, Dad seemed a little sad that my chosen activities were not more sport orientated so occasionally I would sit in the living room with him to watch one of his football games and would throw in a half-hearted 'woo hoo' now and then. He did however, enjoy helping out with project wall and would sometimes bring home big rocks or he would get us snacks from the kitchen when we were working.

"Uh huh, and I suppose you've been doing all the heavy lifting?" He raises an eyebrow causing me to huff and slouch at what he's suggesting.

"I'm strong now, Dad! Ten years old, mum just helps with the really big rocks," dad nods appraisingly and goes to ruffle my hair before rethinking the action – and rightly so – to pat my shoulder, "that's my boy."

"How about after you finish that wall, you and I can throw the ball around? Actually, hold that thought, I think I can hear the phone ringing," I whisper my thanks to the phone gods, this outfit does not agree with dirt at all.

_Mum should really be home by now._

I go to sit on the stairs, eagerly awaiting Mum's arrival until suddenly I hear a clatter in the kitchen and my Dad's voice, rising in volume until I can hear him loud and clear.

"I'll be there in a minute!" My dad barges out of the kitchen and I jump to my feet at his urgency. Then I notice the dread on his face and I just know something is wrong.

"It's Mum, she's been in an accident and we've got to get to the hospital now!" I don't hesitate to run after him out the door and for once, don't comment on the ridiculous speed he pushes the car to. My arms are rigid and my feet are bouncing. I glance at Dad and quickly look away again, not wanting to ever see that expression on his face again.

We arrive at the hospital in record time, I follow Dad to the building entitled 'accident and emergency' and it's not long before he's banging on the front desk. The woman nods towards the door wearily where a doctor emerges looking even more exhausted.

It's not good news. Even I can tell that before he has anything to say.

I walk over to a chair in the corner and sit down, staring blankly at the scene in front of me and only manage to catch snippets of the conversation between Dad and the doctor."…car crash…drunk driver…didn't make it." It isn't until the end of the conversation that I start to pay more attention.

"Mr Hummel, there was one thing our team retrieved from the crash. There was a package in the backseat of the car your wife was in, we have it here if…" I walk over to my Dad and stand as silent support by his side before putting my bravest face on.

"Can we have it please?" My voice trembles and I'm sure there are tear tracks down my cheeks but I know in my heart that I need to be strong for Dad.

The doctor regards me with a look I'm not familiar with, he almost looks sad, "of course, let me just get it for you."

He walks away leaving Dad and I alone. We're both too stunned to grasp our emotions but it doesn't take long for him to grasp on to me like a lifeline. I don't say anything and neither does he. The waterfall of tears I've been holding in finally escape and I let out a mighty sob, my body is rattling with the ferocity of each gasp and I can hear similar noises coming from Dad. I refuse to believe that he's in a similar state to me. Not him. Mum and Dad are my superheroes, the strongest people on the planet. This isn't supposed to happen. I blink furiously, wanting more than anything for this to be like the nightmares I used to have. But this isn't a nightmare. This is real life and this mere thought leaves me in hysterics.

My mother is dead.

The doctor enters the room with the package and I know instantly that it's the final rock for the wall.

"We have to finish it, Dad. We've got to finish the wall," I can feel him nod tiredly before he releases me to take the box from the doctor who is standing awkwardly at the door.

+BREAK+

Rain lashes at the windscreen on the journey home but neither of us pays the weather any mind. As we approach the house, I grab the box, ready to head straight to the wall. I jump out of the car, not caring that the resulting splash will have surely ruined my new trousers. Dad follows me down the path and when we reach the wall I begin to find it hard telling my tears and the rain apart. Memories ambush my mind as I trudge to the place I'd spent the most time with my mother in the last year.

Dad offers to help me lift the heavy rock out of the package but I refuse silently, instead emitting another tremble from the force of my sobs. I appraise the rock before setting it down:

_Prince Kurt and Princess Lizzie  
Nightmare Busters  
_

I hold in the next bout of tears. _Come on, Kurt. You've got to do this, for Mum. _

I feel Dad's hand grasp my shoulder; much like he had done earlier that day and it gives me the strength to lift the rock onto its designated section of the wall.

"There, Mum. We finally finished it."


	2. Chapter 2

**So here's another update :) Thanks to everyone whose read this so far and for those of you who have added it to their alerts. And without much further ado, here's the next chapter. **

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_Seven years later_

I fold up the small piece of paper carefully before slipping it between one of the cracks that wasn't already full in the wall. This was a lower wall note, something of unimportance that Mum shouldn't feel the need to look at as the information holds no urgency. Just a simple recap of my day so far, and to be fair, there isn't much room for excitement yet considering it's morning and I still haven't been to school. It's after school that the notes will raise from lower wall to upper wall.

You see, each note that I write has its own respective place. If the information is that of inconsequence, the note will be placed in the lower cracks of the wall. And if the tale I am retelling is of a more urgent matter, it will be placed higher.

Only one note has ever reached the top of the wall though, and that was the day after my mother died. I still believe however, that I can connect with her here. It's the one place I feel closest to her, but voicing my thoughts seems derivative in comparison to the written word. If I were to speak my problems aloud, I would taint the memories I treasure most dearly of my mother and I talking here. Yes, the notes are a suitable alternative.

Unfortunately, due to events taking place at school, upper wall is becoming more and more crowded.

It's not what you think though. Circumstance would suggest that I'm the victim of social harassment. That can't be further from the truth. If I'm a victim of anything, it's social isolation. Perhaps it's my fault for going down the path of 'wallflower' upon entering high school, I honestly don't mind though. I'd much rather observe than partake in the social aspect of teenage life. And from what I've observed so far, I'm very happy I've chosen this route. The kids in McKinley are cut throat and are all too aware of the importance of social hierarchy.

In regards to social stature, I agree with John Mayer, '_High School is like a spork: it's a crappy spoon and a crappy fork, so in the end it's just plain useless.'_ I mean, why should I play nice with these people, whose only concern is how many friends they have acquired over the years. It's nonsense.

I've told Mum this many times in the past few years, I'm sure she would agree with me to; Dad says I'm more like her every day.

I glance down at my watch and sigh, time to leave for school. I stand up grudgingly and pat the top stone on the wall as I do every time I leave. The words have eroded slightly over the years but not so much that you couldn't make them out.

'Nightmare busters', I internally scoff as I retreat from the wall. If anything, since the walls completion the nightmares have increased. Although I must admit, I know longer witness a multitude of different creatures roaming through the back garden. Mostly, it's just my imagination conjuring up scenarios of my mother's death. Some are ridiculous yet some are frighteningly real.

After every one of those nightmares I'll come down to the wall, regardless of the designer nightwear, I'll still sit in in my regular spot with a pen and paper in hand, ready to tell Mum about the dream knowing that if she were alive, she would have found me and comforted me.

As I walk through the backdoor I catch a glance of Dad at the kitchen table, he smiles at me around a mouth full of food and gestures for me to join him at the table.

"Big day," he begins gruffly, shoving a plate in my direction.

"Hardly, first day backs are like any other day of the school year," I reach for the toast and opt out of using butter knowing fine well Dad will have purchased the fully salted kind. Sometimes I think he does it as an act of defiance against the doctors. The Jokes on him though because since I got my driver's license, I'll be doing the shopping meaning no more unhealthy foods for him.

"Perhaps," he says, "but this is your last year of high school, that's a pretty big deal," I roll my eyes at him.

"And I am so very thankful of that but I see no reason to be overly excited about it," I grumble, throwing down a crust.

"Hey, maybe you could even talk to some people this year. Make some new friends…"

I laugh slightly before mumbling a, "thanks but no thanks." He nods as if expecting that answer and I can just hear his brain racking at another thing to say.

"Well, look at it this way then, one step closer to fashion…school or whatever," I laugh at his attempt before sighing wistfully. Well, that is true, one less day to wait until New York.

"I don't even know if I got in yet."

"Oh you have, you've worked your ass of for this and no one deserves it more than you," I sit back, shocked a little at the passion in his voice. Mum was always the person I would talk to about fashion or music, everything that Dad didn't really show an interest in. Hell, the day I came out to him had to be one of the hardest things for him to accept about me.

I could feel my eyes water, "thanks, Dad."

Classic Dad made an appearance after that heart felt statement however, as he got to his feet and grumbled out an 'it's true.' I smiled at that, some things never change and emotions just aren't his domain.

I finished of the toast and then walked over to the hall mirror, making sure nothing was out of place. Even if I am just going to school, I always do my best to look amazing; that was another thing Mum taught me and I was not letting that skill go to waste.

I adjusted my brooches one last time before shooting a final look out the back window to the wall.

+BREAK+

When I arrived at school I couldn't help but feel a little happy. Although not my favourite place in the world, the building is a never changing constant in my life. The geeks are the same, the jocks are the same, and even the teachers are the same.

I guess that's something to be thankful for.

Fortunately for me, I chose not to partake in that which is the social ladder of high school. I don't even think I make the ladder. If anything, I'm the guy the ladder sits on. Yeah, that's me, Kurt the introvert.

As I walk to class, I can't help but notice that everyone is abuzz over the same thing. This results in a sigh as I know that only one thing could possibly temporarily unite them like this: a new student.

I tug my books closer to myself as the halls become more crowed and brace myself for the onslaught of shoves and pushes.

"That's fine, no really I'm not even here," I mumble to myself before I suddenly feel someone bang into my side hard enough that my arms stretch out preparing for the harsh fall to the ground.

I expected no one to pay attention to me, they all even had the audacity to just step over my twisted legs. What I didn't expect however was a wide eyed guy to stare at the scene in front of him. Odd, they normally walk on after I fall.

"I am so, so sorry," he stutters out, quickly going to stack my books back into a pile. Odd again, not only do the culprits never acknowledge me but they never, ever apologise.

I stare at him blankly for a second, a foreigner to this new social interaction.

"Oh god, you've got a concussion or something, don't you. I swear, I am so sorry. I was just walking and then this guy fell into me and I fell into you and I'm just…ugh I'm-" I continue to stare at him and manage to put two and two together; this must be the new kid. Ah, now the universe makes sense again. I slowly get to my feet and when I've got my sense of vertigo back I can't help but appreciate how good looking this guy is.

He's got short, dark curly hair that he is currently running his hands through at a speed that would surely result in imminent hair loss. Then my eyes fall to his face which maintains the chiseled cheekbones one would find desirable, but also a softness due to the crinkles around his eyes. His skin is of a tanned colour but that combined with his dark, almost black hair would suggest that it is a feature passed down from his heritage. Then I assess his build which isn't bulky but more lean, although he clearly does have more than his fair share of upper arm muscles, an image that I just know will remain in my mind all day. His dress sense on the other hand leaves something to be desired but hey, he had to have at least one imperfection.

I realise then that I've been starting at him for at least five minutes and he's still apologising profusely, "It's my first day and I'm just a little nervous you know? But this was the last thing I wanted to do…."

Choosing now to speak, I hazard a smile before rubbing the arm I fell on subtly, _ok that actually did really hurt._

"I'm fine, really. Don't worry about it," I go to pick up my books but he's already one step ahead and before I know it he's placing them in my arms.

"My name's Blaine," he states, still running one hand through his hair and I notice my hand twitch, _yeah so I really want to touch his hair now. Maybe ask what shampoo he uses…_

I'm staring again, "oh, um I'm Kurt." The last time I introduced myself in a high school setting like this was to a girl called Mercedes and much to her dismay, I haven't really engaged in any other form of conversation with her.

"Well Kurt, please let me walk you to class as it's the least I can do," he smiles, snatching the books back out my hand.

I smile back, amused at the fact that he had no idea where anything is yet, "yeah sure, I've got science if you just want to lead the way…"

His smile falters slightly but it doesn't take long before it's back, "that's no problem. I'll just walk with you as you walk to class then; I've got science as well actually so that's perfect." He's like a puppy I swear.

"May I have my books back?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Nope," he grins and then I'm leading him to class.

"Wait, so really I'm just walking you to class," I laugh as we navigate our way to the science department; the hallways are emptying as people disappear into classrooms so I let myself relax a little.

"Funny how everything works out in the end, " he smiles back and if it weren't for the way I was consciously trying to place one foot in front of the other I would have stopped because his smile had to be the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

_No, Kurt, it's your last year. The last thing you want to do is doom the new kid into unpopularity because he talked to the pariah. _

I look away, not wanting to think about how ridiculously gorgeous and charming he is.

We walk the rest of the way in silence and once we reach our lab I don't hesitate to mumble out a 'thanks' as I take my books from him before we enter and then quickly rush to my table. One reason I like this class is that I work with no one, another year of solitude.

Blaine watches me from the front of the class, confused at my actions. I choose then to get my work out and then the window grows increasingly interesting as it's the only place in the classroom where I can look without seeing Blaine in the peripheral of my vision.

"Okay kids, this is a new student; Blaine Anderson. Make him feel welcome," Mr Larson drawls and I can hear him sifting through the famous mountain of paper on his desk. Not a day goes by where he doesn't swear he'll tidy it but we know as much as he does that it'll never happen.

"Right Blaine, I'm putting you next to Kurt. Kurt raise your hand will you," I audibly groan at this turn of events and some people snigger at Blaine's placement. Grudgingly I lift my arm even though I know Blaine already knows who I am.

"Tough break, new kid" someone says from the front of the class and I roll my eyes. Blaine, ever the confused new comer, makes his way to my station.

_I suppose one smile can't do any harm._

He grins back, all evidence of worry leaving his face and in that moment I know I'm a goner.

_Shit._

We don't interact much till the end of the lesson and Mr Larson has already issued several deadlines for projects.

"So," he begins, "your house or mine for the project?"

I internally groan knowing that interacting with Blaine is unavoidable at this point, "I really don't mind."

"Um, we can alternate. I know the deadline isn't for a few months but I like to get things like this out of the way…" he trails of. I nod in agreement.

"Well my house is out past the fields and it takes a while to get there so maybe instead, on my days we could just go to the library or something?"

"Yeah that's fine. Oh, before I forget," he says as he pulls a piece of paper and a pen out of his bag, "here's my number, just text me when you want to get started." And with that and a final smile, he's out the room and of to his next class.

_This is really happening. _

+BREAK+

I try to maintain a distance from Blaine for the rest of the school day, not wanting to compromise his position on the high school food chain just yet. It's not till lunch however that I realise just how much I'll have to distance myself from him.

There he was, handsome as ever, sitting at the jock table.

Of course.

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**Bit of a cliffhanger but hope your liked it. **

**Please, if you have the time, leave a review - to boost moral and what not :)**

**Oh, and I apologise if there are any mistakes. I've not got a beta as of yet (if anyones up for it though, please message me. )**


	3. Chapter 3

**Weh hey chapter 3. On a un-related note. I read Divergent last week and oh my god it was amazing. I'm just about to start Insurgent and I just have so much fourtris feels right now, so sorry this took a week to get out but if you've read it; I'm sure you understand :)**

**Oh and a million thanks to everyone who has read/alerted/reviewed this fic - it honestly means a lot. **

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Even though I knew the likelihood of running into Blaine again was slim, I still made sure to avoid any potential place he may be. I don't know why I care. I don't know why after all these years of actively ignoring people; Blaine Anderson has managed to get inside my head like some kind of parasite.

Although he is, I guess, what people would consider to be aesthetically pleasing. For one, he has the facial symmetry that society deem handsome.

Also, he has nice eyes. Like, ridiculously nice, hazel eyes.

No. I'm not going there. It's my last year of high school and this is ending here. He's just my lab partner, no big deal.

Once I got home I, rather unceremoniously, dropped my bag at the door with a huff and then headed straight for the back garden. Dad wasn't home as he didn't finish work at the garage until five which made me feel better about sitting outside for a few hours because I know, no matter how much he tries to hide it, that it worries him. The truth is that Dad could never really offer me the same comfort as Mum can.

When I get to the wall I sit down in my regular spot and pull out the small metal box half wedged into the wall that holds my writing equipment in it. And then, when I've finally gathered my thoughts over the events from the day, I begin to write.

_Mum, as I told you this morning, today was my first day back at school. Dad seemed pretty hyped up about it but you know better than anyone my feelings towards first day backs. I just don't get the excitement over going back to the same building to see the same people._

_Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. You see, today it wasn't all the same people. There was a new guy; Blaine Anderson. And to be honest, it all started out great. He accidently banged into me in the hall before class and he actually stopped to apologise. It was sweet more than anything because his eyes were so wide and he fell over his words… And, Mum, he is really good looking. Like, there are no words. Remember when I used to tell you about what my ideal guy would look like, well he's it and more. Then he took my books from me and we walked to class together and it was probably the most gentlemanly thing someone has ever done for me. My luck ended there though because we were made lab partners. And, this isn't because I prefer to work alone in that class. _

_He's a jock Mum. At least I think he's going doing that path because that's who he sat with at lunch and I know better than anyone that the cliques you establish yourself into are the ones that define you. _

_I'm not going to let this get to me. It's my last year and I'm so close to New York. I'll just do what I do every year; keep to myself. _

_Of course I'm still Blaine's lab partner, there's not much I can do about that. We'll probably just work on it at the library which thankfully is a jock free zone so maybe I'll get through this year unscathed. _

_Here's hoping. _

_Love you._

I carefully tare the sheet of paper from the notebook and delicately fold it up. I deliberated over where to put it but finally settled on the lower region of the wall. Like I said, this is no big deal.

I stayed at the wall for another hour, thinking about when I should text Blaine. I mean, it's only been a couple of hours and we have science tomorrow so…, yes it can wait.

As it neared five o'clock I got to my feet and went back into the house, Dad would be home soon and if I didn't prepare dinner now he'd try and replicate some form of unhealthy monstrosity.

I decided on pasta but before I could get the ingredients together the phone rang; Dad.

"Hey, Dad," I say whilst simultaneously filling a pot with water.

"Hey, Kurt. You aren't making dinner are you?" He asks causing me to turn the tap of.

"Yes, why?"

"Oh nothing, nothing. Just don't make anything for me," I frown a little and place the pot on the counter.

"Did you have plans?" Surely he'd have mentioned this morning if he wouldn't be here for dinner.

"Yeah, I…well I'm going out to dinner," I roll my eyes, knowing he's probably worried I'm mad he didn't tell me.

"That's ok; I'll just make pasta for myself. Are you going out with the guys from the garage?" I ask.

"Um, no. It's a woman, her names Carole Hudson… Kurt?" I almost dropped the phone.

"Is it like a, like a date or something?"

"Yeah, I guess it is. Is that ok?"

I stuttered for a moment, not knowing what to say, "yeah, yeah of course. Have fun!" And then I hang up the phone.

I don't know how long I stand in the kitchen and I also don't know at what point I wound up back at the wall but this information is just too sudden to process.

A date? My Dad on a date? I didn't even know the word was part of his vocabulary; it's just not something he does. Ever.

And that can only mean one thing, that he's serious about it.

In theory I'm ok with it. He's been on his own for years and I've always kind of wanted him to meet someone, but at the same time I don't. I mean, I talk to Mum every day. To even consider there being another woman in his life just feels…wrong.

I scrub my hands against my face and draw in a ragged breath before blindly reaching for the metal tin.

This note would be considerably higher than the last.

+BREAK+

The next day I was out the door before Dad had finished saying 'good morning'. I'm acting ridiculous, even I know that. I just need some time to process this, dwell on something else for a while to help me put this into perspective because at the end of the day, if he's happy then there's no reason that I shouldn't be.

This is how I operate. I receive, I consider and then I react. I'm just considering the situation right now before I make an invested reaction because truly, I'm not overly ecstatic about this yet and I won't confront Dad about it until I'm at a position where I can express my feelings honestly.

Since I was arriving at school ridiculously early I made my way to the library knowing that no one would be there – all the early kids normally hung out around their first class.

I smile at Mrs Gordon, the librarian, and make my way to the table I normally occupy near the poetry section. I sit here because it is close enough to Mrs Gordon's desk that no one even slightly troublesome bothers me, and also it is at the poetry section that very little people visit.

I let myself sit for a moment to clear my mind of the previous day before I reach under the closest book case to see if the copy of, 'Romeo and Juliet', I'd hidden last year was still there. We were studying it in English and I knew if I didn't get the book first, someone else from the class would.

I flick through the pages leisurely, smiling at my annotations along the way until I am startled out of my relaxed state when the library door opens. I see the arm before the face and just that detail has me knowing the identity of who it is.

Blaine Anderson.

_For the love of god can I not catch a break?_

He walks in slowly, a cautious air about him that radiates through his timid steps. I consider slipping behind the bookcase but I'm too late. His eyes meet mine and just like the previous day I'm almost certain I can identify the shade of hazel from where I sit, those same eyes brighten when he sees me and I try to not groan at the fact that he's now identified me as an approachable person. At least his reputation remains safe in the library.

His step becomes more confident as he walks over to my table and then he gestures towards the seat next to me. I grudgingly nod but I can hear the devil on my shoulder chanting, _'take a seat, take a seat'._

I guess it would be customary to initiate a conversation since he initiated the meeting, "you're pretty early. Was one day here not enough to make you hate it?"

His smile widens and I have to look back down at my book as my heart goes into overdrive, "I could say the same about you."

I look back up and take a moment to actually look at him. His hair is loose and springy and the small corkscrews hang to just above his eyebrows. Today, he wears a slightly more casual outfit consisting of faded jeans and a white t-shirt that hugs his arms. He really is perfection personified.

No, don't go there.

"Sometimes I come in early to get some stuff done," I answer lamely, looking back down at the copy of Romeo and Juliet but taking in nothing what so ever because my brain still seems to have a ridiculous fascination with the sound of him breathing.

"We could make a start on that project if you'd like…?"

Another person enters the library and I flinch when I see the letterman jacket. I shrink a little into my chair; sliding down ever so slightly but the jock – Azimo I think his name is – has already spotted Blaine who is currently eyeing my actions curiously.

"Are you o-"

"Blaine," Azimo yells from the door, clearly not understanding library etiquette. He swaggers over with arrogance, a walk that most of the footballers adopt once being initiated into the team, "coach said she saw you come in here. She wants to see you about your try-out," he glances at me with a look that can only be described as disdain and then adds, "now."

Blaine looks at me apologetically but I just motion with my hand for him to go before returning to my book. I don't know why this information disappoints me so much but I can only assume it's because he just doesn't seem like he belongs on a football team.

Once you're in the football team you have new responsibilities in school. I've witnessed what appeared like the nicest guys morph into the most horrible bullies. Luckily for me, I'm not on their radar.

"Sorry," he mumbles quietly as he gathers his things and in a matter of seconds he's following Azimo out the library.

I sigh at the empty space he occupied. Blaine just seems too nice to be hanging out with people like Azimo. It won't be long though until he's joining in on the daily dumpster tosses.

_What a waste._

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**So Kurt's denying his little crush... we'll see how long that lasts ;)**_  
_

**Reviews are most appreciated and hopefully I'll get the next chapter up within the next few days :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Yay chapter 4! Thank you so much to everyone who read/favourited/story alerted and reviewed; yous are all awesome people. **

**After reading Divergent last week I just had to get Insurgent and holy mother of cliffhangers it was amazing. Seriously if you haven't read it you really need to become it is just...ugh there are no words. I also watched all three seasons of Avatar:The Last Airbender so I'm recovering from those feels as well.**

**I think my inner turmoil just might be obvious in this chapter. **

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The nightmare, although identical to the others I have endured, shocks me to my core. It leaves in its wake troubling thoughts that have never before entered my brain. I lie in my bed, huffing out quick breaths with my eyes squeezed shut, trying to find a suitable mantra to get me through this night.

_It's going to be oka- _No.

_Just a dream- _No.

_Go to the wall. _Yes.

I stumble out of bed and blindly find my way to the back garden in what must appear to be a zombie-like fashion. My feet are cold and the wind is harsh but I can't find it within me to care. If this had been a decade ago I wouldn't have dared to venture near the forest in the dark like this but I guess I have the wall to thank for that.

Once I reach the familiar rocks and oddly placed boulders, I sit down in my regular spot. Tonight I don't bother writing about the dreams – there is enough paper wedged in the wall describing every last detail of them. No, tonight I choose to sit in a position facing the forest. I cannot face all my fears but I can at least face this one.

+BREAK+

"Kurt!" I jolt awake to see a very unhappy Burt Hummel standing above me. Rubbing at my eyes tiredly, I squint at the harsh sunlight and look around, confused that I am outside.

"Morning already?" I ask myself, hoping to ease the tension he's emanating. My eyes slowly adjust to the light; odd, the sun is pretty high for morning.

"Get inside, Kurt," I stumble to my feet, confused at the situation. We get half way up the path before Dad near enough boils over.

"What are you playing at?" He asks, stopping me abruptly before we reach the house.

"Sleeping outside apparently," I mumble under my breath but he hears me anyway and brings his hand up to grip my shoulder.

"This isn't a joke, Kurt. Do you have any idea what time it is?" I sway to the side and look down at myself, still confused at what is happening. _Did I sleep out here last night?_

"Um…"

"Kurt, It's midday! When I woke up and saw that you weren't in your room this morning, I just thought you'd left for school early like you had yesterday. So imagine my surprise when I receive a call at the garage saying you weren't at school!"

He's getting angrier by the second and I know the only way to calm him is to deflect.

"Why aren't you at work?"

"Don't change the subject! Look this…" He gestures wildly to the wall and then back at me, "this isn't normal." My nerves are wired tight and suddenly I'm filled with an energy unknown to me moments ago.

"Says who?" I finally explode. "So what if sit at a wall, big deal."

"Except that's all you ever seem to do these days. And now all of a sudden it's affecting your education? I thought we went over what you want, New York. Remember?"

I'm panting a little and I can tell that Dad is beginning to calm down but it is what is left behind in his eyes that gets to me. Dejection.

I tug my arm away from his and turn to face the wall, "I don't expect you to understand…"

"Kurt… You need to talk to someone about this."

"What?"

"This isn't healthy. Sitting out at a wall whilst cramming notes into it? Who is that helping?"

"Me, Dad. It's helping me so why do you have to question it?"

He deliberates for a moment and I can feel the lump in my throat morphing into a sob, "what about when you move away? When you have no wall."

I stutter for a moment before turning to glare back at him, "I'll deal with that."

And with that I storm back into the house and straight to my room, but not before I hear him say, "It's not a matter of will you; it's a matter of can you."

I slam the door to my room open and stand in the entry for a moment. Who does he think he is, bringing this kind of thing up after I've been doing it for years. It's my coping mechanism, nothing else should matter.

I stumble to the mirror on my dresser and stare at the reflection. My eyes cast dark shadows on my face and hold none of the light they once did. What was once a sparkling blue has turned into murky grey. Then there are my cheekbones that are ever so slightly more prominent than they should be. I grip the sides of the dresser and hunch closer to the reflection causing my collarbones to protrude more than they should.

_What would Mum think if she were with me now?_

And then a figure appears behind me, identical to the mother I remember and in a blind panic I reach for the nearest object and slam it against the mirror resulting in a crack and then a smash as the fragments of glass tumble over my hand.

I turn around quickly to see if the figure is still there. Empty, as it should be. I'm losing my mind.

I glance back at the mirror and see a fractured reflection of myself with an evident crack down the middle of my face.

+BREAK+

Dad doesn't let me go back to school for a week, I think he believes something from there set me of. I wish I could blame it on school but I'm too indifferent about it for it to ever really effect me.

Yet even now as I walk up to the building that I dislike so much I can feel an oppression that would set any person of, and as the children around me laugh and chatter with each other, I find it hard to believe that they cannot feel it as well.

For years I always regarded high school as a place where you will be judged and treated horribly with the off chance of gaining an education but now I see it as it truly is; a cage. Somewhere to contain the adolescents of today in hope of moulding them into an ideal citizen. A place of futility.

The cliques assemble in their designated areas and I find myself in the middle, choosing to observe rather than partake.

My eyes land on the jocks and I sigh to myself when I see Blaine Anderson siting with them and for some reason it bothers me ever more when I notice he's smiling. He shouldn't be enjoying his time in that type of group.

Then my eyes fall on what lies polar opposite to them, the glee club. It's strange how so many different personalities are gathered here with no signs or conflict or tension. Well, not yet. The glee club are notorious for their lack of social status and I find it ridiculous that the only people who are not fake here are the ones who suffer the brunt of the hate.

I shake my head slightly and morph back into the crowd heading to their first class. Science, which means Blaine. My palms begin to sweat as I get closer to class and my chest jolts whenever I spot curly hair. _This is crazy. _

I ignore my ridiculous hormonal symptoms and walk into the class, straight to my desk – _our desk – _that Blaine is already occupying.

"Hey," he grins, looking up at me with an expression much to cheerful for this time in the morning.

"Er, hi," I mumble back as I retrieve my books from my bag.

He falters a little at my obvious lack of enthusiasm but brightens back up, clearly having more to say, "so you've not been here for the past week. Were you not well?"

I stop to look at him for a moment and he quickly stutters out a, "not that it's any of my business of course. Sorry, that was really nosy and just ignore me because-"

I chuckle a little; it's comforting to know that the last week hasn't changed his puppy-dog personality; even if he has suffered exposure from the jocks.

"I was a little under the weather," I amend, "but as you can see I'm fine now."

He smiles back at me and for a moment I forget about all the assumptions I've made about him. He's clearly a nice guy so why should his friends compromise that? The teacher decides to walk in then and I shake my head at the absurdity of my thoughts. Not only does Blaine hang out with the jocks, he's probably not even gay.

He waits until the end of class until he speaks again, "do you still have my number. I wasn't sure if you had maybe lost it or…"

I internally face palm having completely forgotten about the project, "sorry. I stored it on my phone, I'll ring it now so you have mine as well," I say, pulling my mobile out my pocket to phone him. He tugs out his as well and rejects the call to store the number.

"Thanks, Kurt. I'll text you tonight so we can work out plans!" He grins, the excitement from earlier seeping back into his voice.

"Uh, yeah. Okay," I say as he grabs his things to head to his next class. I groan when I realise tonight is hours away and then stop myself immediately to remind myself that I do no care.

I move to gather my belongings as well before a hand lands on my shoulder causing me to go rigid, "look I don't know what you're trying to do here," the voice says into my ear, "but Anderson is a good kid that doesn't need to be infected by people like you so I'd make it your best interest to stay away from him."

I nod dumbly and look down to see an arm swathed with a letterman jacket, a jock. "Do I make myself clear?"

I nod again and force myself to stay upright, the fear in my body causing me to feel faint. He shoves me in to the table a little and as he walks away I can tell that it's Azimo, the same Azimo that whispered, 'tough break' to Blaine on his first day when he was paired with me and the same Azimo that appeared in the library.

Never in my high school career have I ever been confronted by someone in this way and I make a vow to myself that it will never happen again because from that day on I promise to myself that I will ignore Blaine to the best of my ability at Mckinley. A task I am sure he will make difficult.

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**So things are starting to change for Kurt both at home and at school, the only problem is can he cope...?**

**Reviews as always are most appreciated, it's always great to here what you think :)**


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